


By the Highway Side

by cloverfield



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Daddy-Daughter Murder Road Trip, Dark Character Intepretation, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, The family that slays together stays together, implied off-screen death, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22115800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield
Summary: “Deep breaths. If I didn’t think you could do it, we wouldn’t be here.”“Right.” Sakura nods, eyes hardening, and her foot stops jumping. She straightens a little in her seat, shoulders relaxing into a comfortable, but ready, position. She looks calmer. She looks strong.That’s my girl.
Relationships: Fay D. Fluorite/Kurogane, Kurogane & Sakura | Tsubasa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	By the Highway Side

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt fill, for the prompt 'murder dad'. Kurogane takes his daughter out for her first solo hunt.

“I’m kinda nervous,” says Sakura, looking down a little at the dingy table in their tiny corner booth. Kurogane can tell - one of her legs is jumping a little, a bobbing motion that thumps the heel of her boot against the cracked linoleum with little _tmp-tmp-tmp_ s.

“That’s normal. It’s good to be nervous.” Kurogane takes a sip of his beer, mostly for show; he’d tipped half of it out earlier into one of the withered planter boxes and topped it up with water when he was sure they weren’t under observation. “Being nervous means you’re being cautious.”

Under the table, he pats his hand on Sakura’s leg firmly, squeezing her knee reassuringly. “Deep breaths. If I didn’t think you could do it, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Right.” Sakura nods, eyes hardening, and her foot stops jumping. She straightens a little in her seat, shoulders relaxing into a comfortable, but ready, position. She looks calmer. She looks strong.

_That’s my girl._

Across the room, beneath the fug of cigarette smoke and the smell of cheap liquor and greasy food, tonight’s target laughs loudly, head thrown back and beer slopping to the floor as he raises his glass. His nearest companion grunts in annoyance and leans away on his barstool – he has no friends here.

“He came in alone,” says Sakura lowly, soft voiced but confident. “He’s travelling solo, and he’s got no-one to notice he’s gone for a few weeks at least. Divorced, no kids, no contact with the ex-wife. Alcoholic and abrasive in personality, on a cross-country trip to ‘find himself’ with a motorcycle.”

She picks listlessly at their basket of onion rings, eating mechanicially between sentences. Her gaze is focused, sharp beneath the fall of her fringe.

Kurogane takes another sip of his watered-down drink; lets his gaze wander to the baseball game playing on the television screen in its rickety brackets above the bar, the picture of studied disinterest as Sakura quietly recites what they both already know about the man they’ve been trailing for two days now.

“He paid cash for a room at the motel across the carpark, but he hasn’t slept in it yet. No credit card trail. His last phone call was at the phone booth a couple of hours ago, checking in with an old friend back home. He won’t call them again for at least another week.”

Sakura’s hand slips from the table, rests against her own leg, and Kurogane knows she’s touching the knife in her pocket for reassurance. It’s a habit, one she’s picked up in the last couple of months since she came into his life, but no-one who saw it would think anything of it beyond a girl in her late teens (one a little too thin, one with green eyes as hard as glass and with something darker in their shadows, one who tumbled into his world in a burst of violence and who is ready to make herself _a part of it_ ) checking to make sure her phone was where she left it.

At the bar, their target takes a last big swig of his beer and turns the glass over, the last dregs soaking into the barmat. He swings off his stool, a little unsteadily, lurching towards the door. He’s on the far side of tipsy, enough that he won’t be riding anywhere tonight.

Sakura stiffens, not enough to be obvious, but Kurogane feels it: the tension ratcheting up as she readies herself for the pursuit. “Easy,” he murmurs, lips moving against the rim of his glass and for all appearances still watching the game, careful not to look at her. “Give it a moment. Make it natural.”

Sakura makes herself relax again, and that alone is a sign how ready she is. Control is the most important thing, and if Kurogane has taught her anything, it’s definitely that.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” she says easily, a few minutes later, and at a normal conversational volume. “Gonna grab my sweater from the car.”

“Alright,” says Kurogane, and lets his eyes say what his words don’t: _take care. Be careful. I know you can do this._

She pats him in on the shoulder as she slides out of the booth, the absent affection of a kid for their proud parent, and the grin that breaks through her determined expression is wholly child-like, bright and honest in its excitement. _I can do this. I’m ready._

She nods at him once as her smile slips and her face hardens again; just a little dip of her chin, but Kurogane takes it for the assurance it is. He doesn’t watch her go, knowing without looking how she holds herself steady, head high and back straight.

The door of the bar swings shut behind her with a stiff-hinged creak, and she’s gone. Kurogane can wait. It might be the first time on her own, but she’s ready, and he has enough faith in the kid he’s taken under his wing and taught these past couple of months to believe in her own strength.

The buzz of the burner phone in his pocket comes, as expected, and Kurogane shifts a hand to palm it free, taking one last sip of his watery beer before answering.

“It’s me.”

_“Ah, Daddy - it’s good to hear your voice. Thought I’d go straight through to voicemail.”_

The glass clinks dully when Kurogane sets it down, running his fingers idly through the condensation rolling down its smooth sides. “Nah, I’m just at the bar. This local place we found.”

_“I take it our little girl is off on her first kill?”_ the voice on the line sounds excited, proud, purring into his ear. A few years back that tone would have pissed him off, but these days it just makes him warm. _“Oh, I have to make sure everything’s all ready for when you both get back!”_

Kurogane huffs something that might have been a laugh. “Yeah, she’s fine. Bit homesick, but she’s enjoyed the trip. Shouldn’t be more than another twelve hours on the road, probably tomorrow afternoon.”

_“Excellent.”_ That voice hums happily on the line. _“Little Puppy is so excited to see what Little Kitty brings home. I’ll have to make sure we have the basement in order.”_

Kurogane snorts, waving to catch the eye of the lone waitstaff on duty when she circles past to check on him, and nudges the basket of cold onion rings towards her. She doesn’t look surprised to see they’re only half-eaten. “She’s had a good time - we both have. It’ll be good to be home though.”

The waitress smiles at him and Kurogane nods in acknowledgement, tapping on the billfold and the twenty poking just slightly out of it; he gets a weary smile in return as she scoops it up.

_“Be careful on the road coming back, okay? The last thing we want is our happy little hunter getting caught by the cops on her triumphant return. Take care of my Little Kitty, won’t you?”_

Kurogane rolls his eyes, lets the warmth in his voice bleed through. “Always do, don’t I? Say hi to the kid for me.”

_“Will do, Daddy. He’s looking forward to you getting home – and so am I.”_ That warm voice turns throaty, a rumbling promise that Kurogane intends to cash in as soon as they have a moment alone… but that’s a full day away at least, and he’s got to keep his mind on the task at hand.

Still, it’s easy to let the anticipation he feels bleed through, soaking heat into his words as he leans back a little in his seat, booth creaking beneath his weight. “Will do. Be home soon.”

_“Give my love to our baby girl, and tell her I’m so proud of what she’s become. Love you both so much.”_

“Same here,” and if it’s a sigh only the waitress notices, smiling as she glances back at him from across the room by the till. “Talk to you soon.”

The baseball game is winding up as Kurogane shoves his phone back down into the pocket of his jeans, and he nurses his drink for another ten minutes before Sakura comes back in the bar, pink-cheeked from the cold wind outside and her hair a little messy.

“It got cold real quick,” she says as she slips back into the booth, green eyes glittering. She’s not talking about the weather.

“Yeah, it can turn pretty quick this time of year.” Kurogane presses back a little as she scoots in close, chilled from the night air. “You missed a phone call. They’re waiting for us back home. Your dad sends his love.”

“Oh!” Sakura smiles. “I feel pretty ready to head home myself. I got everything packed up and ready to go while I was out at the car,” she continues, and Kurogane nods as he takes her in: no signs of scuffle, nothing out of place (besides her chronically messy hair, at least), and no blood anywhere he can see. Good.

He didn’t expect her to make a mess or to get in any trouble: he wasn’t lying earlier when he said she was ready, and even if it was her first time solo it wasn’t her first time altogether. Sakura knows what’s she’s doing, and the only way she’s gonna get the confidence in herself she needs is if he believes in her too.

“Good job,” he says gruffly, and Sakura flushes happily, looking down as she blushes.

“Thanks for believing in me,” she says quietly, and Kurogane can’t help but ruffle her hair as he stands up, huffing out a laugh.

“You make it easy to believe in you, kid. C’mon. Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> They're a happy little murder family, and Sakura is going to be welcomed home with big smiles and loving arms for doing so well on her first solo hunt.


End file.
